


Not This Time

by 3988Akasha



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Figging (mentioned), M/M, Self-Harm (unintentional)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-24
Updated: 2011-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Tommy introduce a new kink into their budding relationship with traumatic results. Tommy responds by running away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not This Time

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own my story. The people in the story own themselves.
> 
>  
> 
> Beta: bones_2_be...It's all her fault (and I adore her for it)
> 
> Author's Note: It's my first adam/tommy fic, so feedback is greatly appreciated.

**Part 1**

Tommy glanced down at the ticket in his hands. It wasn’t the first time he’d had second thoughts about his decision, but his doubts weren’t enough to dissuade him. Not this time. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt further down, covering more of his face. As he moved through the throngs of people, he did his best to keep his head down, remain unnoticed. It was a skill he’d worked on the past few months. The more time he’d spent around Adam, the harder it’d become to simply slide under the radar. Adam was the most charismatic human he’d ever encountered. It was impossible to be around Adam and not be affected by the life oozing from the man’s oversexed pores. Angered that he’d allowed his mind to wander _there_ so quickly, Tommy shook his head. Glancing down at his ticket became a nervous tick. He’d memorized it. He knew which gate would take him away from everything.

He scuffed his shoes on the industrial carpet as he made his way to his gate. Pressed up close to the window, Tommy closed his eyes, the cool glass calming his frayed nerves. Slowly the world around him began to fade. The couples with their kids, the single passengers, the business moguls intent about their travel…all of it faded from his mind.  As he rested his head, Tommy’s mind went blank – blissfully blank.

When it came time for him to board the plane, he gave one last wistful look out the window before following the line of people. He forced a smile for the flight attendant who scanned his ticket, readjusted the shoulder strap of his carry-on, and walked away from Adam for the last time. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry as he settled into his seat. He was stuck between a businessman, who would probably sleep through the flight and a woman in an obnoxious dress. Honestly, it looked as though she’d taken the draperies from any one of the hotel rooms he’d been in over the past few months and turned it into a Mumu instead of a dress like he was positive she’d intended. He shook his head, too much time around Adam and Sutan.

She turned to him expectantly once the businessman settled in for his nap. _Shit._ He didn’t want to have a conversation with anyone. He wanted to forget everything.

“Now, dearie, what takes you to Maine?”

Tommy slid further down in his chair, his shoulders up by his ears. He didn’t know how to answer her question. At least, not in a way she’d understand. Hell, _he_ barely understood it. She kept her pleasant, but persistent gaze on him as if she had all the time in the world for him to answer. Fuck if she wasn’t right. They were trapped in this aluminum tube for the next – whatever, it didn’t matter. He was not obligated to make pleasant chitchat with a random stranger. There were no cameras here. Instinctually, he glanced around the plane then shook his head. He hoped no one would recognize him. Not on this plane. Not on a trip to fucking Maine.

She’d tilted her head even closer to him, as if she could pry the information from his brain. Tommy was no coward, but this woman’s gaze and the intent way she just kept _looking_ at him…

“Vacation.”

It was a lie, sort of, but it was the first thing he could think of, the only way to keep the conversation generic.

“Have you ever been to Maine before?”

Tommy shook his head. That’s why he’d chosen Maine. No memories. That, and Adam wouldn’t look for him in Maine. Not that Adam would come looking for him. Not this time. Everything was different now.

“Oh, I know you’ll just love Maine. Especially if you like seafood.” She paused, considering him for a moment. “You _do_ like seafood, don’t you?”

Unaccountably afraid of the woman’s inflection, Tommy simply nodded his head.

“That’s good. Now, are you meeting friends? Got someone special waiting for you in Maine? A – _nice_ – young man like you must have someone waiting for you.”

Tommy almost smirked at how the woman stumbled over the word “nice”, but her talking about having someone waiting for him stung. He shook his head, more to himself than in answer to her question. Adam wasn’t waiting for him. Adam was touring. Adam was busy being Adam Lambert and would soon forget about him. As it should be, for Adam’s sake. It’d been a bad idea from the beginning. It _was_ better this way.

Beside him, the woman pursed her lips. It made her look like a toad. Tommy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he just wanted to be left alone. Fortunately, for Tommy the woman lost interest in the one-sided conversation and turned to start chatting with the poor soul across the aisle. Tommy listened to the hum of the engines and the ambient noise, allowed his mind to clear and fell asleep.

The flight attendant gently shook Tommy awake when it was time to land. Momentarily disoriented, Tommy looked around, his eyes immediately searching out Adam. He choked back his name just in time. Adam wasn’t here. The woman next to him gave him an odd look that almost felt like pity, but was too knowing to be convincing. Tommy rolled his eyes.

  


Once he was in Maine, Tommy didn’t know what else to do. There hadn’t been a whole lot of planning involved. He’d simply packed his stuff, well, some of his stuff and booked a ticket for the first place they hadn’t toured. He checked himself into a hotel near the airport, collapsed onto the bed and promptly fell back asleep.

He woke up feeling hung over and groaned when he saw how much of his eye shadow had ended up on the sheets. Uncoordinated and still not fully awake, Tommy rolled from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He turned the shower on as hot as he could tolerate, stripped out of his day old clothes and stepped under the hot spray. Each time he closed his eyes, he tried to ignore how images of Adam filled his mind’s eye. If the water didn’t sting quite so badly, he would have kept his eyes open to avoid the flashes. At moments, the water felt like warm hands caressing his skin – hands that felt deceptively like Adam’s. He moved through the rest of his shower routine robotically. He grimaced at the hotel shampoo and conditioner, but he hadn’t packed his own. It was still in _their_ room. Or in the dumpster by now. Not that it mattered what his hair felt like. No one would be running his hands through it, gripping it tight – pulling him close. He emerged from the shower, and tied a towel loosely around his hips.

In need of a distraction, Tommy turned on the radio. He let the commercials play in the background as he finished getting ready.

 _“Adam Lambert wowed crowds again last night. With one noticeable difference. He shocked the world with his controversial live AMA performance where he kissed band mate, bassist Tommy Joe Ratliff. Since that performance, sexual exploits on stage had become a standard crowd pleaser for Lambert’s performances. Concertgoers who were expecting the now standard interaction were disappointed. Tommy was not on the stage at all during his performance in Concord. After the show, Lambert avoided answering any questions about the bassist. The big question today: Where is Tommy?”_

 _“And will he be on stage for the Providence show? That’s the tour’s next stop?”_

 _“Yes it is – ”_

Tommy sighed as he turned off the radio. Fucking East Coast states being so goddamned close together. He should have gone further. He felt a stab of guilt about the show. He knew how much Adam believed in the staging and giving the audience and loyal fans a show. He did, too. He knew the staging hadn’t been changed; there hadn’t been time. He loved that Adam didn’t make any comments about his “mysterious disappearance”. Adam knew where he was, well, until about five hours ago, he did. Tommy wondered if Adam knew he was gone.

He could look at his phone and instantly know more than he wanted about his current situation. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

Tommy dug into the bag he’d hastily packed earlier and found a workable outfit. Right arm halfway through the sleeve of his shirt, he froze. On his left wrist the little plastic tag stared at him. Tommy stared at the wristband. The edges of his vision began to blur and when his knees began to gel he reminded himself to breathe. Frantically, he tugged at it. He pulled until the plastic bit into his skin. It stretched, but wouldn’t break. Tommy’s breath came out in harsh pants, the plastic beginning to cut into his skin. Tears tracked down his face as he continued to fight the band around his wrist. When he saw his blood drip onto the floor, he released his death grip on the band and sank to the floor. His wrist was red from both the abrasion and the blood. With the plastic stretched, he was able to use the blood to help slide the band off his wrist. He threw it across the room and dropped his face into his hands.

His tears had dried on his cheeks, but his body shook. He didn’t try to stop the images as they flooded his mind. The way Adam’s face would transform after a song from those intense, soulful eyes to the impish smile that simply lit up his face. Adam, eyes hooded crooking his finger at Tommy during what he’d dubbed “their” song. Even before Tommy’d decided he could be _with_ Adam, he’d thought it was their song. Adam holding him at night. Waking up next to Adam in the morning. Haltingly, Tommy moved his arms around his torso, like he could hold himself together, but he needed to fool himself into feeling someone’s arms around him. If he could just hang on to the image of Adam in his mind, keep that look, that indescribable look that made Tommy believe he was the most important person in the world, then maybe, just maybe he’d be okay.

He awoke hours later; the fading daylight casting shadows along the carpet at his feet. Sleepily, he rubbed at his eyes, wincing at the sudden pain. He looked down – right. Dried blood lay in patches along his blue and yellow wrist. He hissed in a breath as he tried to rotate some movement back into it. Knowing he couldn’t simply ignore it, he staggered to his feet and over to the sink. The hot water stung as he ran his wrist under the spray.

“You’re a damn fool Tommy Joe.”

The thought of using soap made him cringe, but he could hear Adam’s voice in his head telling him it was necessary. Hand less steady than he’d like, he poured a liberal amount of soap onto his shredded wrist. He bit down on his tongue, eyes screwed shut in pain. He couldn’t allow it to become infected. He needed to use his wrist. Even if he’d never play with Adam again, he knew he’d hate himself forever if he was unable to play his guitar. So, with that galvanizing thought, Tommy gently massaged the soapy water around the wound, watching the water fade from pink to clear. Glancing around, he knew there was nothing to wrap it within the dinky hotel room.

He reached for his phone, fingers halfway to dialing Adam when he froze. He couldn’t do that. Tommy hung his head, hair falling in front of his face. Adam would know what kind of cream stuff to put on it, but Tommy would just have to figure it out on his own. He grabbed his wallet from where he’d left it on the counter and left the hotel room.

After a brief conversation with the man at the front desk, Tommy walked across the street to a local shop. He browsed the aisles, looking blankly at the labels. Honestly, it shouldn’t be this complicated to pick up a tube of antiseptic and some Band-Aids, but he didn’t know what he should buy. Finally, he picked up three different creams and a thing of gauze wrap. As he laid the stuff near the scanner, he realized how this might look – as though he was back from the war. He smiled wryly at that; he liked it. This place didn’t know him so he had little fear of this leaking out to the press, or worse, Twitter. The last thing he needed was Adam receiving abbreviated versions of his impromptu visit to Maine featuring his less than stellar first aid knowledge.

In the end, he applied some of all three of the creams and wrapped his wrist, and rewrapped his wrist (twice) before it was comfortable. This left him with nothing to do. He feared turning the radio back on – no telling what the airwaves would reveal. He prowled around the room absently. He glanced at the spot on the floor, where his blood stained the carpet. He should have picked up some carpet cleaner, too. He moved to his hands and knees and picked at the spot with his fingers. It didn’t do much more than transfer some of the red to his fingers and probably make the blood harder to remove from the carpet. Tommy moved and sat with his back against the bed, knees tucked up to his chin. He rubbed his forehead, face screwed up in pain as he realized what he’d spent the last day of his life doing.

He could feel the medicine he’d been given begin to lose its potency. The uncomfortable burn returned slowly. He shifted his position a couple of times before deciding that no new position was any better than the previous. Maybe he should have paid more attention to what they were trying to tell him. Too late now, though. Restless, he stood and paced the room again. The walls weren’t quite moving in on him yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Tommy saw the plastic wrist band. Blood had dried in random patterns on either side. Along the edge, the blood had pooled and dried into a macabre border. He picked it up, flicked some of the dried blood off the middle portion.

“Ratliff, Tommy Joe.”

He shook his head. He felt relieved to have the thing off his wrist, but it was his last connection to Adam. No matter how much it broke him inside he knew he would be out of Adam’s life for good this time. His time with Adam had exposed him to numerous life experiences he’d never have done on his own and that was wonderful. Some things, though, don’t change with new experiences. Some things are always the same. The look on Adam’s face that night – that look was always the same. Tommy knew what it meant. The look transcended gender, role, lifestyle because the look was simply one worn by all humans at some point during their lives. Universal constants couldn’t be altered, or ignored no matter how desperately Tommy wanted to believe otherwise.

Tommy sighed deeply as he thought about that look. Things had been going so well before that look, almost perfect. He should have known then. The moment things began to feel _really_ good – Tommy should have known. The band, Adam, they’d accepted him into their family with open arms. He’d found a peace, a tranquil existence that would never be replicated.

A smile tugged at Tommy’s lips. He remembered the first time Adam kissed him on stage. It shook him. He hadn’t expected it, which made sense because why would he spend anytime wondering how he would react to Adam Lambert shoving his tongue down his throat during a live performance? After the show, Adam had looked sheepish, avoiding eye contact with him. Having enough of Adam’s silliness, Tommy’d confronted him. That conversation set the rest of their relationship in motion.

 _“Adam, dude, what’s wrong?”_

 _“Nothing, I’m sorry.”_

 _Tommy reached out, grabbing his arm to keep him from walking away…again._

 _“What?”_

 _Tommy looked at him steadily. “Don’t keep walking away from me. I wanted to tell you it’s okay.”_

 _“No, Tommy, it’s not okay.”_

 _“Yes, it is.”_

 _“I should have asked, I should have checked with you before – I’m_ not _that guy.”_

 _Tommy smiled at him. “I know, Adam.”_

 _“Look, I won’t do it again. I mean, I’m already hearing about it from everyone. It wasn’t the best stage move I’ve ever made.”_

 _“Screw that. It was awesome. No one was expecting it.”_

 _Adam’s lips pulled into a small grin. “You always going to make me feel better after I screw up on stage?”_

 _Tommy rested his hand on Adam’s bicep. “Always.”_

 _Adam nodded. “Look, Tommy. About the staging stuff – I – I need you to do something for me.”_

 _“Okay…”_

 _“I need you to come up with a word or a signal – something that you can use in case it gets to be too much. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”_

 _“A word?”_

 _“A – a safeword. Look, not like a sexual thing, but it’s the concept I’m trying to go with here.”_

 _He couldn’t believe it. Standing not three feet from him, Adam Lambert was blushing. Tommy grinned. He knew the perfect word._

 _“Audience.”_

 _Adam blinked at him._

 _“That’s the word. Audience. We’ll be on stage and if I have to say it when I’m too close to the microphone the audience won’t think anything of it and if they do they’ll just think I’m reminding you that there’s an audience and that we’re onstage.”_

 _This time Adam’s smile was the impish one Tommy was so fond of and they agreed it was the perfect word._

It’d been their safeword ever since. Tommy’d never used it on stage. Even before they’d become a couple it hadn’t been necessary. He liked the flamboyance of Adam’s concerts; it was part of what made him so incredible as a performer. Tommy blinked to keep the tears at bay. He couldn’t continue to cry every time something reminded him about Adam. He wanted to savor his memories, to remember how amazing it had all been. Eventually he knew the pain would ebb into a pleasant bitter sweetness he could bask in for the rest of his life.

The burn had become almost unbearable. Tommy growled and moved over to his bag. He rummaged through it until he found the tube of medication he’d been given. Quickly he read the label, groaned and wished again there was someone here with him.

“It would make it so much easier.”

Now he was talking to himself. Good.

The medicine came in a tube that looked scarily similar to hemorrhoid cream. The tip that he was supposed to screw on to the top was long and had holes all around. Two days ago he would have laughed at the sight of it, making a joke with Adam about kinky medical toys. Now it just made him grit his teeth. Like the instructions dictated, he squeezed from the bottom until a small amount oozed from each of the holes. He crawled up on the bed and moved to his knees. There might be a better way to accomplish this task, but he couldn’t think of one right now because his ass felt like it was on fire.

He shimmied his pants down and took a steadying breath. Slowly, he pushed the tip of the medicine into his hole. As it increased the burn, Tommy wished he’d remembered to put something between his teeth and reminded himself to not bite off his tongue. Adam would have remembered. _Fuck._ He closed his eyes and imagined Adam hovering over him, stroking his lower back and cooing nonsense words in his ear. His warm hands would be gentle and distracting from the burning pain of the medicine coming into contact with the rash. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, but then he hadn’t been alone the first time. Now he was. He was alone with the cold air of the hotel room above him. Once the applicator was fully seated, Tommy rotated it three times just like the instructions said. He hissed air through his clenched teeth. He reminded himself it would make him feel better. The medicine would do its work, and if it didn’t burn it wasn’t doing its job. That’s the way medicine worked, right? If it tasted bad it was good for you, so if the cream hurt, it was good for him.

With a sigh of relief, he gently removed the applicator. For a few moments he simply lay there, waiting for the medicine to take away the pain. When he felt human enough to move, he took the medicine tube over to the sink. He ran the applicator under hot water, cleaning it off the best he could before returning both the ointment and the plastic tip to the box. At least he only had to do it once more today. That was something to look forward to, right?

  


Tommy woke up disoriented. He no longer knew what time of day it was or what day of the week it was. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. Glancing down, he realized he was still in the same clothes he’d had on…yesterday? Earlier today? Knowing he needed to check in, see what was going on in his life, in the world outside this hotel room, Tommy stretched and rolled from the bed. He looked at the hotel shampoo and conditioner with disgust, but grabbed them and took them into the shower with him. He allowed the water to wash away the grime of his wallowing. Facing the reality of his situation required he be refreshed, as much as he could be at least.

After this shower, Tommy put on clothes that matched and actually brushed his hair. He stood in front of the mirror, eyeliner in hand. For a moment he considered not putting any on, no one would see him. He was only going to listen to what his phone had to tell him, if in fact his phone had anything to tell him. That wasn’t fair to Adam. He _knew_ he was killing him. Tommy knew Adam cared. He knew Adam must be worried out of his mind. The only thing that might be clouding his worry would be his anger and irritation. Tommy knew it was a crap move, he knew when he made the decision it would probably be a really, really bad idea. That hadn’t stopped him. Tommy brought the pencil up to his eye and began the detailed process of applying his eyeliner. He forced his mind to blank on everything except the exact application of black to his eyes.

He pulled back from the mirror, examining his handiwork. It wasn’t the best he’d ever done, but he looked normal, nearly human. He looked good enough to convince himself he was prepared enough to check his phone. The battery hovered close to empty. Tommy ransacked his bag, wanting to find the charger before he lost his nerve. He held it in his hands for a moment before plugging his phone into the wall. His notifications glared at him accusingly. Which was utterly ridiculous, but that’s how the sheer numbers made him feel.

He’d missed forty-six calls and ninety-three text messages.

“Shit.”

He decided to start with the texts; he wasn’t ready to hear Adam’s voice.  
 

 **Plz answer**

 **Tommy, where r u?**

 **Why the hell did u check out?**

 **r u ok?**

  
Tommy scrolled through them, there were a lot of repeats. Several pleas for him to answer his phone, some more anger-filled than others. Some just wanting to know that he was okay. Then they started to get more panicked, more desperate.  
 

 **Not going to call u anymore. Know u don’t want to talk**

 **Call me, plz**

 **Let me know u r ok…plz**

 **Just want to hear your voice**

 **I love you**

 **Tommy Joe Ratliff where the hell are you?**

  
Tommy turned his phone over and held his head in his hands. There was no way he could fix this. He’d screwed up so completely it would be remembered in history. All of the texts from Adam held the same message: just let me know you’re okay. Tommy felt like shit. The one thing the texts never asked was for Tommy to come back, to come home. It was the look, Tommy knew what that look had meant. He felt his last shred of hope vanish as he processed what the messages from Adam _didn’t_ say. The look was final. The look meant it was finished. He owed Adam more than a departure without so much as a bye, I’m okay. Clearly, Adam wanted to know Tommy was safe, but that was all. The look had said it all. He knew now he wouldn’t be able to handle listening to the voicemails.

He ran a hand through his hair.

Hastily, Tommy typed at text to Monte: **Tell Adam I’m okay…I’m sorry.**

That mission completed, he turned his phone off. He’d done what was required of him. Adam now knew he was okay, or would soon. Monte would tell him. Monte would make sure Adam was okay, and that’s all that mattered to Tommy.

~~~~~

Adam had just finished his second show without Tommy. Monte could see the difference, more than the obvious lack of onstage kissing. He could see the lack of vibrancy in Adam’s eyes. He could see the strain on his face each time he belted out one of his songs. For the first time since he’d known Adam, Monte witnessed him having to _try_ to perform. What used to come naturally to him, was now a moment-to-moment challenge. As expected, Adam retreated to his dressing room without a glance at anyone. No doubt he was going to spend the rest of the night clutching his phone, hoping the sheer force of will would manifest a message from Tommy.

With a shake of his head, Monte walked into the dressing room he shared with the rest of the band, Tommy’s empty spot glaring at him. His phone was blinking at him. In spite of the drama going on around him, he smiled. He reached for it, scrolled absently to what he expected to be a text from his wife. The phone fell from his hand. When his brain registered the reality of what his phone had told him, he scrambled to pick it back up.  
 

 **Tell Adam I’m okay…I’m sorry**

  
Monte dashed from his room, not even bothering to knock on Adam’s door. He simply thrust his phone in front of Adam’s face. Adam threw him an annoyed look, but when Monte persisted, Adam glanced down at the phone. He was pulled forward when Adam tugged the phone closer to his face. Monte released his grip on the phone. He watched Adam’s face carefully as he processed the message. Adam held the phone close to his chest, eyes closed.

“Adam?”

“At – at least he’s okay, right?”

The lump forming in Monte’s throat made talking difficult, so he simply nodded. He brought his hand down on Adam’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe how much I screwed this up, Monte. I –I should have asked more questions. We should have gone in to the doctor and had a full allergy scan run before we went any deeper into it.”

Monte shook his head and crouched down next to where Adam sat. He didn’t have any words to offer. He’d never forget that particular night, not for as long as he lived. After all the touring with Madonna, he thought he’d seen it all, thought he’d be prepared for anything. Then that night, he received a frantic call from Adam.

“You had no way of knowing he was allergic to ginger, Adam.”

“I should have known!”

“Through some goddamned omnipotence?”

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.”

“You can’t do this to yourself, Adam. Accidents happen. Tommy said he was okay.”

“He told _you_ he was okay. He won’t even text me. He hates me.”

“Adam, listen to me, okay? Tommy doesn’t hate you. He wants you to know he’s okay. He’s probably just confused.”

“And scared.”

“Even if he is, that doesn’t make him scared of you.”

“Either way, he’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“You don’t know that.”

Adam leveled Monte with a look so intense he felt it in his marrow. Adam was convinced Tommy would never come back to him. They had a couple of days before they performed in Massachusetts. He knew Adam was wrong about Tommy. There was no doubt in his mind. He knew there would be nothing he could say to convince Adam that Tommy still wanted him, he couldn’t make Adam go after Tommy.

“Keep the phone, Adam. He might send something else.”

Adam blinked up at him, not really seeing and nodded.

“We’re going to get you back to the hotel. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

They both knew he was lying, but Adam nodded.

~~~~~

 Tommy stared at the ceiling. The remnants of various take-out meals lay scattered around the hotel room. He rubbed at his chin, the stubble caused by two days without shaving scraped against his hand. There’d been no response from Monte; he’d only half-expected one, but it still hurt. He’d slumped into a routine. He’d shower with the awful shampoo and conditioner, use the godforsaken medicine, eat something and take a nap. When he woke up, he’d repeat the process, except the shower. Occasionally he’d mix it up with some TV, but found he couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to enjoy it. He’d only put eyeliner on the one time. After he’d checked his phone, he’d gone and scrubbed his face clean.

A knock at the door drew his eyes. He didn’t remember ordering any takeout, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t. He rolled from the bed, moved hair out of his face and opened the door.

“You look like shit.”

Tommy gaped at him. Monte Pittman was on his doorstep.

“Come on,” Monte said as he pushed his way into the room.

Rooted to the same spot, Tommy watched mutely as Monte took in the disaster of the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tommy blurted.

Monte looked at him, and Tommy wanted to shrink into the wall behind him.

“I was going to ask your foolish ass the same question.”

“Adam doesn’t want me anymore.”

Monte continued to look at him in _that_ way. He’d been wallowing nonstop since he’d left the hospital. He didn’t need Monte to come by and make it worse. He was wallowing just fine on his own.

“What in the hell makes you think that?”

The question didn’t register at first. Everything made him think that. Everything. From the expectant look on Monte’s face, he expected an answer.

“Everything! You were there, you _saw_ the look on his face, the way he looked at me. He wouldn’t fucking touch me. He made _you_ carry me to the car…into the hospital. The whole time we were there he kept himself in the furthest corner of the room – as far away from me as possible. Once he knew I was fine, he left and never looked back. Then he sent everyone else to visit me once we knew things were going to be okay. I don’t know what else he could have done to show me how much he _didn’t_ want to be around me anymore.”

“Fucking idiots. You both are damn fools.”

“What are you talking about, Monte?”

“Come to Hyannis. Talk to Adam.”

“No.”

“Tommy,” Monte began, voice hard. “I wasn’t asking. You owe him more than a disappearance act.”

Tommy hung his head. He knew Monte was right, but he didn’t want to face Adam again. He couldn’t handle seeing that vacant, distant look on his face. His fears didn’t change the truth of Monte’s words. He did owe Adam more than what he’d done – he owed Adam an apology if nothing else.

He looked up at Monte, held his gaze for a moment before nodding.

“Good.”

Monte moved past Tommy and began throwing the random bits of Tommy’s stuff back into his bag.

“Jesus, you haven’t left this room have you?”

Tommy felt an embarrassed blush creep up his neck. “I left once.”

Monte didn’t ask; Tommy didn’t offer. He picked up Tommy’s bag and held the door open expectantly. With one last wistful glance at his sanctuary, Tommy preceded Monte from the room.

 **Part 2**

Outside the door, Tommy paced. He couldn’t make himself go into the room. Adam was in the room; just on the other side of the door. He might as well still be in fucking Maine. Monte hadn’t said anything during the trip, which Tommy thought was fine. He didn’t know what he would have said. His thoughts were still a jumbled ball of confusion. What was he going to tell Adam? Was he back? Was he just saying a real goodbye? It occurred to him that he could just leave. It was a free country, this was a hotel – nothing was keeping him here. His feet wouldn’t move.

Clutched in his hand was a key to Adam’s room. Monte’d shoved it into his hand before retreating down the hall. Monte was smart. If Tommy’d had to knock on the door and wait for Adam to open it, he would have run. Do not pass go, do not look back – not this time. With a deep breath, Tommy shoved the plastic card into the slot, watched the light turn green and threw open the door. Tommy stepped just inside the room and heard the door shut behind him. On the bed, Adam sat cradling his head in his hands. He didn’t even look up at the noise. Tommy’s heart constricted.

“Not now, Monte.”

Tommy scuffed his foot along the carpet, feeling more awkward around Adam than ever.

“If you want your phone back, just tell me. He hasn’t – ” Adam cut off mid-sentence as his eyes snapped up to see Tommy standing in his room.

“Hi.”

Slowly, Adam stood from the bed. Tommy took in his appearance, the bags under his eyes, the limp way his hair just sort of fell across his eyes. He imagined he looked just as bad. Not that it mattered, Adam always looked like Christmas morning to Tommy. Even if it broke his heart.

Adam continued to look at him, his mouth opening and closing. Tommy understood, he didn’t know what to say either. Fidgety, Tommy brought his arm up to run his hand through his hair. He heard Adam suck in a breath. Then Adam was directly in front of him, Tommy’s arm in Adam’s hand.

“What happened?”

The concern in Adam’s voice made Tommy angry. Who did he think he was? It was too late for concern. It was too late for Adam to give a damn.

Tommy broke away from Adam. He watched Adam stagger back a step or two, unconcealed pain in his eyes.

“You care now, Adam? Are you sure you don’t want to send Monte to ask me about it?”

Tommy ignored the hurt in Adam’s eyes.

“You couldn’t even _look_ at me in the hospital, but I have a little bruise on my wrist and you’re concerned? You don’t get to be concerned anymore, Adam. Not now.”

“Anymore? Tommy, what the hell?”

“Monte carried me to the hospital. Monte came and checked on me. Sutan came and checked on me. One of the fucking _security_ guys came to check on me. You wouldn’t look at me. You – you wouldn’t touch me. I just wanted you to hold my hand. I _needed_ you to let me know it would be okay, that we would be okay, but you couldn’t do that.  I’d upset you. You didn’t want me anymore. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t really hurt then you’d be able to move on with…whatever, it doesn’t matter. You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore. Monte was right though, I shouldn’t have bailed like that. Now you know I’m okay.”

Tommy turned and walked to the door. His hand was on the handle when he felt Adam’s hand close around his bicep. The grip was gentle, Adam’s thumb rubbed back and forth against Tommy’s skin. He felt the heat of Adam’s body as he moved closer to Tommy’s back. The only point of contact remained on his arm, but Tommy felt Adam’s presence surround him.

“I want you around, Tommy. I’ve been going crazy without you here. God, I didn’t know what to do when you left. I wanted to go after you…I made it to the airport a few times, but stopped myself. I didn’t know where you’d go, and I hoped if, if I stayed in one place you’d come back. To me. When you didn’t, and you didn’t answer your phone…fuck, Tommy I thought you were – ” Adam broke off. Tommy felt Adam’s head rest between his shoulder blades.

Adam’s free hand came up to grip Tommy’s other bicep, as if to reassure himself that Tommy was real. He felt Adam’s lips on the base of his neck. It was a light kiss, but it was enough for Tommy to melt back against Adam’s frame. His hand fell from the handle. In that moment, he couldn’t remember what he’d run from or why he’d thought running was an option.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology ghosted across Tommy’s skin.

Tommy turned around, Adam’s arms falling from Tommy’s. He looked into Adam’s eyes, saw the pain, saw the hurt.

“Why?” Tommy asked.

“I never meant to hurt you. Not with the _figging_ – ”

Tommy watched Adam shudder at the word.

“Not later. I thought you’d be afraid of me. I thought you wouldn’t want me to touch you. I didn’t think I was safe. I couldn’t risk hurting you anymore. So I called Monte. Monte wouldn’t hurt you, not like I did. Monte wouldn’t hurt you at all. Monte was…safe. Then, seeing you in the bed at the hospital – I – I just couldn’t deal with it, and I should have been able to, it’s my responsibility. I wanted to give you space…time away from me so you could reevaluate.”

Tommy hung his head, a small smile on his face. Monte’d been right. They were fools.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Oh, Tommy.”

Adam crushed Tommy to him. Tommy clung tightly, tears leaked through his closed eyes. It felt good. Adam’s arms were around him. Everything would be okay this time.

“That’s why I left,” Tommy said, voice muffled against Adam’s chest. “I was going to make it easy on you and just go. I’m sorry. It was a jerk thing to do.”

“I was so worried about you. The hospital said you checked out. No one knew where you’d gone. They wouldn’t tell me anything about you, either. Wouldn’t let me know about how you were, what they did for you.”

“I have a cream they gave me.”

Adam smiled. Tommy made a face; he still needed to use the cream again today.

“You’re helping me with it this time.”

Adam smiled and nodded his head. He gently took Tommy’s bandaged hand in his. “What happened to your wrist?”

Tommy shook his head. He didn’t want to tell Adam. It seemed so silly now.

“Tell me, please?”

Looking up at Adam’s eyes, Tommy knew he needed to tell him. They needed to rebuild their trust. He could trust Adam. Tommy knew he already trusted Adam.

“I tried to pull the wrist band off, and it cut my wrist. I wasn’t thinking right. I just needed to get it off, you know? So I tugged and it cut my skin. It was just there, reminding me that I was alone and that you didn’t want me. I didn’t think about getting scissors or a knife or anything. I just pulled and didn’t realize how much it was hurting until I saw the blood, then it was loose enough to slide off my wrist. It’s not a big deal, okay?”

Lightly, Adam ran the pads of his fingers over the gauze. Tommy whimpered a little, not realizing how much he’d missed Adam. Jesus he was pathetic, he’d been away for what, 48 hours? He was an addict.

“When do you need to use the medication again?”

“Soon.”

“How soon, Tommy?” Adam asked as he moved closer to Tommy.

Tommy’s head was cloudy, filled with a sense of Adam. He felt himself maneuvered back against the door. Adam’s hand trailed up his arm, leaving a wake of goose bumps in its wake. When Adam’s hand ghosted over his neck, Tommy’s mouth opened in a sigh of pleasure, and when his hand wound its way into his hair, Tommy moaned.

“Oh, baby, what did you do to your hair?”

Tommy chuckled. “Hotel shampoo.”

“Don’t tell Sutan.”

With his un-bandaged hand, Tommy reached up and cupped the side of Adam’s face. He smiled when Adam nuzzled into the touch. Adam’s arms moved down, his hands landed on Tommy’s hips, gently holding him close.

“I didn’t plan to tell Sutan; he’d kill me.”

“Let me clean you up.”

Tommy heard the question in the statement. He hated how unsure Adam sounded. He knew they both had more shit to work through. Tommy knew he wouldn’t run this time. They’d figure it all out, and everything would be okay again.

He leaned up on his toes, his lips ghosting over the shell of Adam’s ear. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Really?” Adam asked.

Again, Tommy hated the concern in his voice, the trepidation. Fuck. He’d fix things. He’d ensure Adam never sounded like that again. Somehow.

Tommy turned his head and pulled back a bit to look into Adam’s eyes. “Hotel shampoo, Adam.”

“Let me take care of you.”

Tommy could only nod around the lump in his throat nearly constricting his ability to breathe completely.

Adam stared into his eyes, as if he could worm his way inside and decipher everything about Tommy. When he felt Adam’s hands cup his face, he knew what was coming. His stomach tightened in anticipation. This always worked with them. Even before they were an “us”, it just worked. So, when Adam’s lips gently caressed his own, he knew he was home. He allowed Adam to control this kiss, even though he wanted nothing more than to crush himself against Adam and have his mouth plundered until he couldn’t see straight. This time, Tommy gave Adam what he needed.

When he pulled back, Tommy whimpered. Adam chuckled a little. The small, intimate smile teasing his lips made Tommy want to haul him back for another kiss.

“Come on.”

Tommy allowed Adam to lead him to the hotel bathroom. He’d allow Adam to lead him to the mouth of hell. Fuck, he was so screwed. He wondered why he’d thought leaving would work. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live without Adam. He knew it in the same way he knew he needed oxygen, it was instinctual, visceral – nothing would ever change it.

Adam put his hands on Tommy’s hips, simply holding. Tommy searched his face, trying to figure out what was going on in Adam’s head. It was usually easy to read the emotions on his face; Adam was one of the most expressive fuckers he’d ever met. Now, though, Tommy felt as though he’d been shuttered out of Adam’s world. Adam’s face felt closed off in a way it had never been before, and it broke Tommy a little. It broke him more when he realized he didn’t know how to fix it.

Weightless for a moment, Tommy braced himself on Adam’s shoulders as Adam lifted him onto the counter. Tommy smirked a little. If Adam wanted to play Florence Nightingale, that was fine; not that Tommy deserved it, but there was no stopping

Adam once he’d made up his mind. Adam didn’t say anything. He kept his hands on Tommy’s hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles. Tommy couldn’t look away. He could barely breathe. It’d been too long since it’d been him and Adam, like this, alone. It was different, now. He wanted to recapture those moments, before – before he’d been an idiot and bailed. Before he’d seen a random thing about ginger being used during sex and thought it looked like an experience worth having.

When Adam looked away, Tommy felt it in his soul. He wanted to call to Adam, tell him to look at him again, but he didn’t. He moved his hands up to Tommy’s wrist and gently began to undo the bandage Tommy’d struggled to wrap around his wrist. It looked over done and sorta made him feel like a mummy. Adam chuckled softly as he continued to undo the bandage. It was a good sound to hear; Tommy allowed himself to melt into it a bit.

“Were there any bandages left when you were done?”

Tommy smiled and ducked his head towards Adam’s shoulder. He liked the teasing tone in Adam’s voice.

“I wasn’t sure what to get, or how much of it to get, or really how to use it right. I’ve never had to do it on my own before, you know?”

When Adam’s jaw clenched briefly, Tommy wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He always spoke at the worst times. The light mood had vanished. Adam finally removed the last of the bandages and threw them in the trashcan. Fingers whisper soft over his skin, Adam traced the length of the abrasions. They were red and angry, the bruises dark purple and a little yellow at the edges.

“Fuck.”

The word was broken as it tumbled from Adam’s lips and Tommy knew Adam’s eyes were searching out his own. Stubbornly, Tommy kept his head tucked down; he hadn’t quite managed to reach Adam’s neck. He wanted to bury his face there, and never leave. Adam lifted his face, eyes searching for…something. Tommy didn’t like the way Adam’s eyes searched his face. Honestly, his wrist looked worse than it felt.

“It looks worse than it feels, Adam.” Tommy had to say it aloud, make Adam believe him. Get that look off his face; the look that he feared he’d crush Tommy like spun glass if he held too tight.

“It looks like hell.”

Tommy laughed lightly. He wasn’t lying. It didn’t really hurt anymore. He looked up; Adam was looking down at him. There was a crease between his eyes that only appeared when he was puzzling something out – Tommy didn’t like being puzzled out by Adam.

Adam brought Tommy’s wrist up to his mouth and gently kissed the bruised skin. Tommy’s eyes slid closed as he felt the velvet warmth of Adam’s lips on his skin. It didn’t matter to him where Adam decided to put his lips; it always had the same effect. He moaned a little and moved his free hand to Adam’s waist. He felt Adam’s lips trail up his arm, effectively pulling him closer. Tommy went willingly.

Adam’s mouth landed somewhere near his ear; Tommy felt his breath tickling against his skin.

“I need to clean you up.”

Tommy simply nodded. Adam placed a chaste kiss behind his ear before lifting him from the counter.

“I’ll get the water going; let you shower.”

Adam started to move away from him. Before he could really think about it, Tommy’s hand shot out and curled around Adam’s arm.

Adam looked back at him, eyes wide, patient.

“Don’t leave.”

Adam’s eyes darkened a little, heat curled in the pit of Tommy’s stomach.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Tommy.”

“I don’t care. Don’t leave.”

“Tommy – ”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Suddenly, he was in Adam’s arms, Adam’s lips pressed to his own. Unable to do anything else, Tommy wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist and allowed himself to melt into the embrace. He felt Adam’s hands fist into the hem of his shirt as his tongue licked across the seam of his lips. Tommy opened his mouth, gliding his tongue against Adam’s. For a moment, Tommy felt lost in the kiss, the only thing in his world was Adam’s tongue sliding against his. Then, Adam pulled back, Tommy whimpered, the haze of pleasure blocking coherent thought processes. Adam’s laugh broke through Tommy’s muddled brain, and he blinked.

“Gotta get the shirt off, baby.”

Tommy moved back enough for Adam to tug his shirt over his head. Before Adam could move closer, Tommy pulled Adam’s shirt over his head. Adam smirked at him.

“You’re washing my hair.”

“Ah.”

“Sutan can’t kill me if you wash my hair. He likes how your hair feels.”

“And you want me to wash your hair.”

“Yes.”

“Adorable.”

Tommy smiled fondly. Few people in the world could call him adorable. His mom, Sutan, and Adam. Always Adam.

Tommy’s eyes followed Adam as he moved over to the shower. He liked watching the way Adam’s hips swayed when he walked. And, if he purred a little when Adam bent over to adjust the water, well, it was allowed. Adam must have heard the purr because he sashayed his hips a bit and tossed a wink over his shoulder.

Quickly, Tommy shed the rest of his clothing before moving to where Adam was still bent over the bathtub. He molded himself to Adam’s back, lips seeking his neck. He loved the feel of Adam’s back, the muscles there strong beneath him. Slowly, Adam stood, turning to face Tommy.

“Get in,” he nodded toward the shower, “I’ll be right in.”

Tommy nodded. The water felt perfect against his skin. More than that though, it felt good to be back home, to feel the muck of his time away fall to the floor before swirling down the drain into the land of the forgotten. He felt Adam move in behind him, he felt Adam’s hands move into his hair, working sweet-smelling shampoo into his hair. Tommy moaned with his entire boy when Adam began to knead his scalp.

“Love your hair so much, Tommy. Gonna spend the rest of the night running my hands through it. It’ll smell so good. Just like you. Smell so good,” Adam whispered against Tommy’s neck.

Tommy could only make small, broken sounds with the back of his throat. Pleasure snaked lazily through his body as Adam’s hands and his voice worked magic over his body. Adam’s hands moved down from his hair to his neck and gently worked the knots out of the muscles. Limp, Tommy’s head fell forward as Adam’s hands continued to bring out moans from deep within Tommy’s soul. Adam maneuvered him back under the spray, washing the shampoo out of his hair.

“God I missed you,” Adam breathed across Tommy’s ear before sucking it into his mouth.

Instinctively, Tommy moved his ass back against Adam. Suddenly, the hands in his hair moved to his hips, holding him away from Adam’s body. Tommy whimpered.

“Soon, baby. Once you’re better. Want to make you all better.”

Of course, Adam was right. Tommy’d forgotten about his ass, the rash, the figging…everything except how amazing it felt to be in Adam’s arms. Arms that were no longer around him. Tommy turned around. Adam had moved to the far side of the shower, pupils dilated, eyes a little wider than normal. At his side, Adam’s hands clenched into fists.

Tommy stepped toward Adam only to have Adam’s outstretched hand halt him. His heart hammered in his chest. He tilted his head, unable to figure out what happened. They were fine fifteen seconds ago. Now Adam’d put distance between them. Logically, Tommy knew it wasn’t a large distance, he could reach out and touch Adam if he really wanted to, but the space, the distance was forced. Unnatural.

“You still need to use the conditioner, Adam.”

“I think I should let you finish the shower alone.”

“No.”

Tommy knew he sounded a bit desperate. He knew he was pleading. He didn’t care. All he knew was that if Adam left the shower early, things weren’t okay between them. He needed things to be okay between them. Not that he could pinpoint what was wrong. It was more a feeling that something failed to align quite right. Like when you get dressed early in the morning and do up the buttons wrong. Or put your shirt on inside out – something like that.

“I don’t want you to leave, Adam.”

Adam looked up at him, eyes silently assessing. Tommy felt more exposed by the look in those eyes than he thought was possible – he was, after all, naked in a shower. Again, the sadness in Adam’s eyes broke Tommy a little bit more. He thought it was gone, but now, here in the shower, it was back. Adam moved, closing the distance between them, gently cupped Tommy’s face and kissed him gently.

“Finish up. I’ll be downstairs. We’ll get you something to eat.”

Tommy wanted to argue, wanted to protest, wanted to cling and beg. He nodded instead. Once Adam stepped out of the shower, Tommy allowed the tears to fall. They ran together with the water as he robotically worked the conditioner into his hair. He was careful to work it from root to tip, knowing it was important to Adam. Knowing Adam liked his hair even if Adam couldn’t bear to be close to him anymore.

~~~~~

Monte looked up as Adam walked into the hotel restaurant. He excused himself from the table, Sutan offering him an understanding look. Adam slumped into an open stool at the bar, ordered and held his head in his hands. Monte moved swiftly through the scattered tables, and placed his arm around Adam’s shoulder. He felt the slight tremor in the stiff set of Adam’s shoulders.

“What happened, man?”

“I – ”

“Where’s Tommy?”

“In the shower.”

“So, why are you down here with me when you have a naked Tommy in your shower?”

“Because there is a naked Tommy in my shower.”

“Man, what the hell?”

“I can’t control myself around him, Monte. I want to – ”

“Look, I don’t need the details of what you want to do with him. What I do need to know is why you’re not up there doing – it.”

“He’s broken. I broke him. And I want him so bad I feel like I’m going insane. Then he responds. He begs me to stay and to wash his fucking hair. God, the way he smells and then he clings to me and I feel like I’m going to die if I’m not touching him. Holding him. Making sure he’ll never run off again.”

“Again, what the hell are you doing down here with me?”

“I can’t, Monte.”

Adam raked his hands through his hair, tousling it out of its normal coif.

“What’s the real problem, Adam?”

“I’m scared. I’m going to hold too close, push too much. Make him run off again. I don’t think I’d make it again. I’m too close, too attached. I’m dangerous because of how much I need him.”

“You’re a moron. He’s not going to run off again. Don’t you get it? He left because he thought you didn’t want him anymore. Now, he’s back, willing, and you run off? Come down here and hide? Fuck. If he does leave again, it’ll be because he thinks you don’t want him.”

“I want him to feel like he can trust me. I don’t want to smother him, or fucking – I don’t know, man. Just, fuck. Everything is so screwed up right now. I feel like every move I make is going to be wrong.”

“Go to him. Fuck, Adam. I shouldn’t need to tell you to go and spend time with your _boyfriend_. He’s back and he needs you…probably as much as you need him. Get the fuck out of here. Order room service. You’re a rock star, remember?”

Monte watched the smile slowly spread across Adam’s face. He felt good knowing he’d finally gotten through to him. Honestly, the boys needed a translator to communicate effectively between each other. He was more than happy to moderate; he knew how happy they made each other. And, as long as they could keep their heads out of their asses, they’d be just fine.

~~~~~

His entire body frowned at the tube. It had been sitting in the palm of his hand for minutes now. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to make himself use it. The burn was back; it was less intense than it had been a few days ago, but it was still uncomfortable. More than anything, he wanted Adam to help him with the cream. He’d dreamed about it. Weird, yes, but he did. Somehow, he just _knew_ it would be better if Adam helped him. Like, it wouldn’t hurt as much, or the medicine would work twice as fast just because Adam Lambert was the one applying it.

Instead, he was here, in the hotel room staring at the tube. Adam was downstairs.

“Fuck.”

He dropped the tube, the sound absorbed by the carpet when it fell to the ground. He raked a hand through his hair.

“Hey.”

Tommy’s gaze snapped up; Adam was back.

“Sorry, I wasn’t running or anything. I just need to…but I _really_ don’t want to do it myself again. And I was staring at it, but you were downstairs, and I didn’t even think to just fucking call you – ”

“Tommy, slow down.” Adam blinked a couple of times. “And, why are you naked?”

“I was going to…with the stuff for…” Tommy glanced down at his feet where the tube had landed.

Adam smirked a little. It was the one Tommy liked; it didn’t quite reach his eyes – it was softer.

“Let’s get you taken care of, hm?”

Tommy smiled up at Adam and nodded. He scooted back on the bed while Adam retrieved the damned cream.

“Looks like hemorrhoid cream,” Adam said with a smile.

“I know! That’s what I thought when I first saw the stuff. It burns though. Bad.”

Adam pouted at him, lower lip sticking out in the most sinful way. Tommy watched Adam crawl onto the bed, arms supporting his weight as he positioned himself above Tommy. He ducked his head, lips brushing lightly against Tommy’s neck before moving up to his ear.

“Can’t have that, can we?”

Tommy shook his head, eyes already heavy with lust.

“Roll over for me.”

As Adam’s voice ghosted over his skin, Tommy did as told. He found himself less concerned about the burn. He did find himself a bit self-conscious about Adam seeing his – _injury_. He knew how he’d react. He knew Adam would start blaming himself all over again. It wasn’t his fault.

“It looks worse than it feels.”

Adam let out a humorless chuckle. “You’re telling me that a lot today, baby.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Adam leaned over, fully covering Tommy’s body and pressed a kiss to Tommy’s shoulder.

“I’ll make it as quick as possible.”

A gasp escaped Tommy’s lips when Adam’s hand fisted around his dick. His head fell forward, hair obscuring his view. He hadn’t been expecting this. He closed his eyes, focused on the feel of Adam stroking him. Adam began placing kisses along his shoulder, mouth working its way up to the base of his neck. His lips found their favorite spot and Tommy’s body shuddered as Adam began to suck a mark into his skin. Teeth bit gently into his flesh as something breached his ass, slowly pushing in and Tommy forced himself to not rock back against it.

The hand around his dick moved faster. Squeezing and twisting in the most exquisite way, stringing Tommy so tight he was about to shatter. He knew if he didn’t find release soon, he’d blackout from the pleasure Adam wrung from his body. When the applicator slipped from his ass, Tommy whimpered. Eyes squeezed shut tight.

“Come for me, Tommy.”

Just like that, Tommy came with a cry that might have been Adam’s name. When he was spent, he slumped onto the bed, content. Adam followed him, his body draped pleasingly over Tommy’s.

“Better?”

“Mphfuck.”

Adam’s chuckle rumbled across Tommy’s back. He placed a gentle kiss to Tommy’s neck before moving from the bed. Eyes bleary, Tommy watched him move around the room. When Adam came back to bed, a warm washcloth in hand, Tommy smiled. He’d’ve fallen asleep with his come staining himself and the bed. He sighed softly as Adam gently cleaned him up; he was glad to be home.

Slowly, Tommy blinked himself awake; it was the middle of the night. He fought it because he was warm, held in Adam’s sure embrace. A contented sigh tumbled from his lips as he snuggled further into Adam. Somehow, he knew if he could burrow inside Adam and take up residence he would. In the darkness, he listened to the steady beating of Adam’s heart. This was his nirvana. In the morning, they’d talk. They’d work out all their issues. That was tomorrow, though. Tonight, Tommy simply enjoyed being snuggled up against Adam. When tomorrow came, he wouldn’t screw it up.

“Not this time,” Tommy murmured softly, sleep taking him.

 **~FIN~**   


  



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